


Disavowment (He is not)

by Haggsy



Series: Disavowment [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, Angst, Character Study, Homophobic Language, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, No Dialogue, Pre-Relationship, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-11 15:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haggsy/pseuds/Haggsy
Summary: “He’s not a queer. He can’t be; he mustn’t. There are no gays where he comes from, because they wouldn’t survive it. There is no place for sentiment and squeamishness in the concrete world Eggsy grew up in.“Eggsy can’t accept that he has feelings for Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reading the wonderful stories in this fandom, I wondered if Eggsy, growing up in a harsh environment and under the influence of men like Dean, would really just accept his sexuality without any further doubt. I can easily imagine Harry being “out and proud”, but I always thought that Eggsy might struggle discovering this side of himself.
> 
> The rating is for the use of homophobic and vulgar language, please do not read if this troubles you.

Eggsy’s not a poof.

He knows how these men are, he’s seen them walking ‘round in the streets with their too tight, too bright clothes, with their bleached hair and high-pitched voices. He has seen them on Smith Street, businessmen, old and horny, picking up young boys from the neighbourhood who don’t have another choice.

Eggsy is a proper bloke, thanks very much, a proper bloke who likes his beer and cars and who’s not afraid of a good fist fight when it comes to protecting his mum or his little sister.  
And even if he likes to play with Daisy, even if he cares about his clothes and his appearance more than Rotti and his ugly lot, even if he didn’t have a real relationship yet, that doesn’t mean… he just hasn’t found the right one, yeah? He’s tried, it’s not his fault that all the girls in the area are either slags or just plain stupid.

Eggsy is not a fucking poof. He can’t be, he mustn’t. There are no gays where he comes from, because they wouldn’t survive it. There is no place for sentiment and squeamishness in the concrete world Eggsy grew up in. When you’re surrounded by men the like of Dean, sometimes drunk, often angry and always carrying a knife with them, you don’t say that you like it up the arse, unless you want to be beaten into hospital for some reason. No, in the streets it’s all about bragging about your manliness and how big your last bird’s tits are. It’s not that these kind of men don’t exist on council estates; but they have a simple choice : pretend or run.

So when Eggsy is staring at Harry Hart a bit longer than strictly necessary the second time he meets him, it’s only because he is wearing a frigging _bespoke_ suit and because he apparently just saved Eggsy from jail.

And when he’s gaping at him in the pub, when he can’t drag his gaze away from him, it’s because it’s fucking impressive how Harry just beat Rotti and four of his followers to mush with a fucking _umbrella_ , as if he’s doing this every morning.

And when Eggsy’s heart is pounding in his chest when he sees Harry sitting on a sofa in the posh tailor shop, it’s because he’s still furious thinking about that arsehole Dean. It’s not because he thinks that the older man is fit as fuck or because he thinks about putting his mouth on the patch of skin just about the expensive shirt collar.

Because Eggsy is _not_ a poofter.

Because if he was, if he was thinking these things, he knows what would happen. Dean showed him when Eggsy was about fourteen and Dean caught him wanking over a picture of a man he’d found in one of his mum’s magazines. It was the first and last time that Eggsy did this; Dean went berserk and the scars his anger left are a constant reminder to Eggsy what life as a gay is like.

So when his head feels a bit dizzy and he can’t stop a smile from spreading over his face when Harry talks about “popping one’s cherry” in a fitting room, it’s just ‘cause it’s a good joke, Harry’s fun, nothing more.  
And when looking at Harry in the mirror, of course Eggsy can’t think of anything else than the man’s eyes, because they are really brown and really warm and of course Harry’s fucking gorgeous, but he’s just acknowledging that, from man to man, nothing more.

He doesn’t care about how warm and good the older man’s hand feels on his shoulder, he doesn’t care if he feels safe in his presence and he doesn’t care when he stands in front of the hospital bed and looks down at Harry’s pale face after the explosion.

Because he isn’t. Mustn’t. Can’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy begins to realise the consequences of his behaviour, and questions himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, these are Eggsy’s thoughts following the events of the second part in the series, _He cannot_. I suggest that you read this first (I know this doesn’t make sense, I am sorry, I will upload in chapters, not in works from now on).

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Hell, no. Please, no. No.

Harry had kissed him. Kissed him. And he’d…liked it. _That’s sick, Eggsy, it’s perverted, it’s wrong._ He’s a man, a _man_ , he didn’t have tits, he didn’t have- whatever, he’d got a cock that he would stick up his arse if Eggsy would allow him, that was fucking rank! _You don’t want that._ It hadn’t been a good kiss, no, he’d tasted of alcohol, and there’d been friggin’ stubble all over his face that itched and…

 _Shit, Eggsy, he’s not only a man, he fucking ancient as well. He’s what, fifty? He’s older than your dad would be now, urgh, no, don’t think of that, you’re fucking_ sick.

Should he tell Arthur? Make Harry sorry for groping him? But… what if Arthur was the same? What if he wanted the same as Harry? Eggsy had never heard anything about a wife, in fact, none of the agents wore a wedding ring or something, nor did Merlin. Were they all…? Shit, what if Kingsman had some disgusting kind of codex, like only gays were allowed in or something. What did Digby and Charlie and the other wankers have to do to get into the interview? Had Charlie let Arthur…?

 _I wish you was different_ , he had said, though in reality Eggsy wished that _he_ was different, that he hadn’t enjoyed the kiss as much as he did, he wished that he hadn’t said those things about his father and that his traitor of a heart hadn’t jumped so much at every one of Harry’s touches. But most of all, probably, he was angry at himself for not having had the courage to keep sitting on that bloody sofa and kiss Harry back.

Rejecting him, and shouting those things at him, hurting Harry was the easy, the weak way. It was what men like Dean did, pretending that their insults and threats were proofs of their manhood; when in reality they were just shields to hide behind when they they weren’t strong enough to deal with a situation.

Wouldn’t Eggsy be more of a man if he stood up for himself?

Hadn’t it been weak to use the same insults against Harry which Dean had used on him when he was a kid? Eggsy remembered how Dean’s words had stung and suddenly he realised that they must have had hurt Harry a hundred times more, coming from him. His chest inflamed in a pain he couldn’t quite place, and he had to lean against a house wall.

_Poofter. Pervert. Sick._

That was what he’d been scared to be called, that was what he’d been hiding from since he’d been a boy. And now… now he’d gone and called Harry, Harry who’d always been nothing but kind to him exactly these names; had caused him the pain he’d tried to avoid.

Fuck, what had become of him? Eggsy had let Dean make one of his kind out of him, an ignorant, stupid fucking arsehole who liked to hide his own flaws by damaging and… breaking everyone and everything around him.

He’d smashed Harry into the table. He’d been brutal and violent like Dean. Every time he had seen new bruises on his mother’s face, every time he had tried to protect her and the baby from the beatings by putting his own body in front of the arsehole’s fists; and now he’d gone and did the very same thing to another person.

_What has become of you, Eggsy?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swear word count:16. I feel very uncomfortable about writing these, but I think they’re a necessary evil when it comes to Eggsy’s thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a slightly darker turn that I expected, but this hasn’t been light-hearted so far anyway, so I suppose it’s all right:).

The next morning found Harry in the Kingsman’s HQ, hiding from Merlin. The wound from his fall on the coffee table (and fall was what he called it, not ready to let the image of Eggsy’s vitriolic expression back into his mind) had started to bleed overnight and formed an ugly swelling on the back of his head. Harry had a bad headache, an even worse heartache and the mirror had told him that his appearance showed both his internal and external bruises.

Naturally he wasn’t keen on meeting Merlin or anyone else, knowing that any enquiries about his injury would tear him up again. He hadn’t slept well, Eggsy’s words ghosting through his mind, his hands back against Harry’s chest as soon as he closed his eyes.  
How could he read all the signs wrong? Had it just been his own longing that had put the boy’s touches, and smiles and _glances_ into his head? Harry had always been so good at finding other men of his… inclination, a pure necessity in the army. He would have never acted if he hadn’t been absolutely sure of Eggsy’s affection, he wasn’t stupid.

But when Eggsy had reacted like _this_ , with so much _hatred_ and disgust, all of Harry’s fears had come back, washed over him with such force that he hadn’t stopped sobbing until well after midnight. He had almost had forgotten the panic that could grip his heart like an iron fist. Getting caught behind a building, policemen at raids, batons in their hands, watching the news about the “gay illness” and wondering…

He had never been one of the “proud gays”, had never gone to marches, hadn’t worn rainbow pins. He had just wanted to be left alone; but it seemed that some people could sense it, thugs like Eggsy’s stepfather but also ordinary people. Shop owners not wanting “his kind” in their shop, old ladies tutting at him on the bus or others just staring, as if Harry was a caged animal.

Things had gotten much better over the time, society had changed and he had built a shield of his agent skills and fabric around him. If someone threatened him now, he could just kill him.

He wouldn’t, of course, but he hadn’t really told Eggsy the truth that afternoon in the pub. It hadn’t been Lancelot’s death that had had him on edge. He would have just left had it not been for the mention of “Smith St”. Again, he was something dirty in their eyes, a man driven by his sexual needs and on one step with criminals like paedophiles and rapist. That was the only reason they’d all been lying on the floor with broken ribs and bleeding noses a few moments later.

And Eggsy had been so joyous about his performance, so happy to see them hurt. That he’d be different than them, he had told Harry, that he was the one exception. And he had believed the young man. Had seen the sunny smiles, the adorable confusion and the absolute candour.

And now it was like Harry had been bitten by his favourite pet. That was what hurt most. He had thought of Eggsy as his little creature, cute, predictable, innocent. His ego had been massaged by the boy’s attention and admiration. He had liked his company and honestly he had been convinced that it would be the easiest thing in the world to seduce him.  
Hadn’t Harry taken him out of the gutter? Made it all possible for him, the interview, the opportunity of a career? Hadn’t he protected him from his pleb friends and his violent stepfather? Wasn’t it his _right_ to take a little bit from the boy now?

_Of course not. ___

____

God, what was he thinking? Of course it was Eggsy’s right to reject him, of course he didn’t owe Harry nothing. Except for an explanation, maybe. Why had he freaked out like this? Why the hell had it been necessary for him to hurt Harry, even injure him, just because of a kiss? He could have just ended the kiss and told him that he wasn’t interested. Was it a kind of … self-defense? And why had Eggsy reciprocated the kiss at first, didn’t that mean that…?

____

Harry knew that he would need to talk to him, but…not just yet. Not just yet.

____

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The talk” is coming, I promise!


	4. Chapter 4

Eggsy had gone to Harry’s office with the definite intention to apologise; to explain and to make things all right again. But then, when he stood there, watching the other man and seeing the ugly mark he had left on that beautiful head—he just knew that he couldn’t. He knew that no explanation would be good enough, that no excuse would justify what he’d done.

_Uuh, my evil stepfather beat me ‘cause I’m a faggot!_

No, that was pathetic, just a prevarication for his stupid aggression. Harry would never forgive him, so why even try? Eggsy turned around to leave and find a bottle of booze to drown his sorrows in.

“Eggsy?”

Eggsy’s heart stopped for a minute. Why was Harry’s voice so fucking gentle? Why did he always have to be so- so bloody reasonable about everything?

“Eggsy, do—do you want to talk?”

He turned around and there was Harry, standing in the middle of the room, a fucking concerned expression on his fucking gorgeous face.

_No, Harry, no I don’t want to talk, I want to fall to my knees before you and beg for your forgiveness, because I was an arse and how can I ever make it up to you?_

But he couldn’t say that. Eggsy had never learned to solve problems that way, he didn’t know how to make the words work for him. The only language he’d been taught on the estate was the language of violence; he had used that language on Harry the other night and he simply couldn’t understand why the older man didn’t reciprocate in the same way. Why didn’t he just grab Eggsy by the collar and gave him a whipping? Eggsy wouldn’t fight back. He knew that it was best that way: it would hurt for a couple of days, but then the problem would be solved and everything would be good again.

That was what his mum had always told him when Dean had been angry about something Eggsy had done. “Don’t fight him, babe, that’ll only make him more angry. Just let him and it will be over, yeah?”

And he’d never fought back, at first because he’d been too small and weak, and later, when he was much stronger than his stepfather, it had been etched into his brain: mistakes are followed by pain and humiliation. It had seemed natural to him. He had deserved the beating. And he deserved it now, so why didn’t Harry do anything?

In the end Eggsy couldn’t bear the silence and the soft look in Harry’s eyes anymore.   
“Why don’t you beat me?” whispered, looking at his feet.  
“What?” Harry sounded surprised.  
“I said: why don’t you beat me!” Eggsy repeated, almost shouting. He looked up and his eyes met the other one’s. “Why don’t you hurt me? I deserve it, I-I hurt you, and I insulted you, so why don’t you punish me? Fuck, Harry, look at your head, that was me! I did that! Please, I can’t stand that look on your face, please just punish me so I can forget it, yeah?”

Harry stared, and stared. He couldn’t believe his ears. Not two minutes earlier he’d been convinced that Eggsy would storm into his office to shout at him, insult him or, in the worst case, to physically attack him again. And now the young man was asking him—he was begging him to…punish him. He thought he _deserved_ to be hurt. Of course Harry had been angry with Eggsy, and yes, he’d wanted an explanation and an apology, wanted to understand what had happened. But not _this_. What kind of man did the other one think he he was? Had Harry ever given him the impression of an aggressive, a violent person?

Or… had this to do with Eggsy’s stepfather? Of course, this bastard who’d threatened to kill him once—what if he’d hurt the boy before? What if he’d told him that loving another man was wrong, of course why had he never considered this before, for God’s sake, Eggsy had grown up in one of the worst parts of towns. Things were different there. No matter how many queer families might be living in Soho—there weren’t any gays to be seen in Hackney. And was it his stepfather who had… _trained_ the blond to anticipate a punishment in form of pain every time he’d made a mistake; as if the boy was a dangerous dog.

Harry suddenly felt nauseous. No wonder Eggsy has reacted the way he had. The older man strode across the room and for a split second he saw the fear flickering in Eggsy’s eyes before he took him into a tight, gentle hug. He felt him tense up under his touch and worried that he might have done a mistake again; but this time Eggsy melted into his arms and let out a quiet sob which made Harry’s heart clench. “Oh, my dear. My dear boy…what- whatever did they do to you that you got like this?”

“I’m sorry, ‘Arry” Eggsy murmured into Harry’s soft shirt. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—I’m just like him, ain’t I? He made me one of his kind, and I hate myself for it. I didn’t mean what I said to you, I mean—I’m not a poof or anythin’, but I—“

Harry immediately took his arms off Eggsy’s body and took a step back. The younger man looked as if he wanted to go after him, after his warmth, but he just kept standing there, blinking a bit owlishly. “What?” he asked.  
“What do you mean, ‘you’re not a poof or anything’”? Harry asked and he hated the way his voice was shaking, showing his confusion all to clearly. He thought…

“What did you think?” Eggsy asked, and he realised that he must have said his last thought aloud. And no, _no_ , there it was again, the cold glint in the blond’s eyes, and the posture that seemed to say “come near me and you’ll be sorry”. Harry was astonished how Eggsy could change his personality so quick, how the frightened young man in his arms could turn into an aloof chav in mere seconds.

“D’you think I’m a cock-slut like you or wha’!?” Eggsy growled, accent suddenly thick again. “Look, guv’, we’ve been fuckin’ through this, ain’t we? I’m sorry for what I did the other day, but that fucking doesn’t mean I’m, I’m…” he pulled a disgusted face, “into you or somethin’, you get it!” If Harry hadn’t been so upset about this words at that moment, if he’d taken a closer look, he might have seen the despair hidden under Eggsy’s angry expression or the tears that threatened to escape his eyes any second. But he was, and he didn’t and so he just stood there and watched him run out of the door and away from him, for the second time in only two days.

And he just stood and watched and asked himself what he’d done to deserve thinking that he’d found love and then losing it again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to make a fluffy chapter but then I thought that it might be too unrealistic for Eggsy to come to terms with everything so fast, so...  
> I’m sorry, it’ll probably take another few chapters for them to be happy :)  
> I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I might add some more to this, Eggsy coming to terms with his feelings and coming out or something like this, but only if anyone’s interested ;)


End file.
